


Canción del Cisne

by ferallahey



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Self-Indulgent, Time Travel, columbian mythology, separated by time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferallahey/pseuds/ferallahey
Summary: Salomé ends up vaulted through time and ends up befriending the very people threatening to ruin all that they know. How can people change so violently? Maybe some things are just not made to last.kol/oc
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore, Kol Mikaelson/Original Character(s), Rebekah Mikaelson/Stefan Salvatore, original character x kol mikaelson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Canción del Cisne

It was raining. It was always raining in these kinds of situations, as if the universe hadn’t gotten enough of its jollies from the chaos it regularly orchestrated and needed more of a dramatic flair. It made Salomé’s hair stick to their cheeks, the humidity of the night twisting their already curly hair and turning it into a dripping halo floating about their head. 

Salomé’s foot catches on a stray branch, sending them crashing straight into the arms of a bramble bush. Sharp thorns dug into their skin, snagging at their lip and ripping the tender flesh there. The taste of pure copper hit their tongue, and for the briefest of moments, Salomé watched the world go by from their heap of limbs on the forest floor and debated staying down.

It’s the sound of frantic chanting that draws them back onto unsteady feet. Salomé staggered towards the sound of Bonnie’s voice, fuzzy socks squelching in the mud and foliage. Dressed in nothing but their pajamas and a pair of thick socks, Salomé would have long ago caught their death in this spell made weather if they’d still been human.

They’d been fast asleep in their bed when Elena had called, sobbing into the phone about Bonnie’s half-baked plan. The plan itself was likely well thought out and would have theoretically worked-if Bonnie had an entire coven to back her up. Time travel was a fool’s errand. Nobody attempted something so tricky, some finicky and wild, at least not without the backing of their coven.

Nobody except a Bennett witch, apparently. 

Breaking through the trees, Salomé spots Bonnie. Her arms were thrown into the air, her hair spinning wildly about her, the tips of her toes barely grazing the lake she’d waded into, drops still falling from her waterlogged jeans. Dozens of tallow candles still burned back on land, the flames spitefully steady despite the wind and rain’s wishes. Her voice echoed eerily into the night, an ominous song backed by the howling wind.

Were it anyone else, Salomé might have turned around and gone home. But Bonnie was one of their girls, no longer small but still so fragile looking against the screaming storm. They’d tried so hard to stay out of the supernatural drama plaguing Mystic Falls. They would have succeeded if Katerina hadn’t come strolling into town with talk about Originals vampires and the need for Elena’s apparently magical blood. 

Elena, who still had baby fat to her cheeks, who had been the brave little ring leader in Salomé’s beloved trio. Of course, Salomé had come running.

Just as they had now, with Bonnie.

“Bonnie,” Salomé cried out. “Bonnie, stop the spell!”

The young witch whipped around, her feline green eyes wide with shock. “Salomé? What are you doing here, it’s not safe!”

“Bonnie, you need to stop the spell, it’s not going to work! Nature won’t allow it!”

“I can do this! I’m strong enough, I can do this!”

“Strength won’t matter when you’re dead, Bonnie! Come down!”

“No! I have to do this, it’s the only way to keep Klaus away!” Blood trickled from Bonnie’s nose, the brightness of it against her warm brown skin a clenching fist around Salomé’s heart.

“We have time before he comes, we can figure out another way! Please Bonnie, you don’t need to do this alone!”

Bonnie only turned back around, her chanting growing louder by the minute. All sound stopped, the world going deathly silent. The rain around them hung in the air, thousands and thousands of droplets suspended in a single moment of time. 

Salomé didn’t think. They launched themselves towards Bonnie.

Salomé’s hands snagged the back of Bonnie’s jacket, the both of them still hanging mid-air. The young witch didn’t cease her spellcasting, her voice growing hoarse with desperation as she rushed to finish what she’d started. The blood from Salomé’s cut trickled down their chin, dripping past the dangling drops of rain, slipping into the dark waters below.

Lightning cracked across the sky, its brightness blinding them both. The spell tapered off, Bonnie’s stunned eyes fully taking in the scene. A stray bolt of lightning hit the surface, lighting up the water, causing it to part and begin to churn. The beginning’s of a vortex opened its mouth right beneath their toes. 

Salomé did the only thing they could think of. They grabbed hold of Bonnie and shoved the young witch towards the shore, their shoulder burning with the strain.

Bonnie hit the muddy bank, the breath knocked out of her. The spell buckled beneath its own weight, and Salomé, who was still clinging to an invisible perch, plummeted.

A few bubbles escaped their lips, the force of the current dragging them down. No amount of flailing could get the water to release it’s hold. The cold settled bone deep, their entire body beginning to ache from the biting temperature. As if they were slowly drifting off the sleep, Salomé’s lids fluttered shut, and they sank to the bottom of the lake.

Bonnie looked on in horror, her screams echoing through the night. Bubbles popped at the surface of the later and Bonnie propelled herself through the mud, hand desperately plunging at its core. The water was thick as molasses, the violent churning from before sputtering into gently lapping waves. She could not go any deeper, forced to stay above land by an unseen force. Something soft and soaking wet came free from the water, and Bonnie foolishly let her desperate mind hope.

Her hope was dashed across the muddy lake floor. Salomé’s pajama shirt hung limply in her hand, the soft fabric torn and dirtied. Bonnie plunged her hand back into the water, fighting against the invisible force with all her might, her salty tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

The bubbles stopped.

Bonnie’s hand came away empty.

* * *

Light cut through the icy waters, its gentle rays settling on Salomé’s face. It was easy to forget they were laying at the bottom of a lake, the chilly water warming under the sun’s gentle prodding. From where they laid, their hair floating about their face, they wondered if they were in the afterlife. Everything seemed so distant, so dreamlike.

Till Salomé remembered they needed to breathe. Their eyes snapped open, their arms and legs ardently thrashing about, all lessons on swimming eradicated in their panic. Above them, the light turned taunting. Lungs burning with need, Salomé clumsily kicked off the lake’s floor and darted towards the sun.

Salomé broke through the surface, greedily sucking in all the air their starved lungs could handle. A bird cawed overhead, barely audible over the sound of their own heart beating a tattoo in their chest, their own wheezing making a grotesque symphony in their ears. Salomé’s ink-colored eyes flitted about as they swam to shore, looking for their magical charge.

Bonnie’s green eyes were nowhere to be found.

Instead of the dark night they’d succumbed to, the sky was painted the soft stone grey of a winter morning. Creatures with their winter coats scurried by, uncaring by Salomé’s violent shivering. Every step forward was accompanied by the uncomfortable squelch of their sopping wet socks. Somewhere in the panic, they’d lost their fleece nightshirt, left to brave the cold world in a camisole that clung to their skin.

The shorts they’d worn for bed did little to keep away the chill, pins, and needles digging into their thighs as they pressed on. The force of their chattering teeth was sure to alert anyone within the next five miles, Salomé was sure of it. Voices not far off drew their attention. Salomé couldn’t make out what they were saying, only that they were laughing and surely having an easier time than they were.

As if the devil were at their heels, Salomé launched themselves in their direction. It was with a fervent desire to be warm again that Salomé could move at all. Every step was worse than the last, their knees threatening to buckle under their straining body. Tears of frustration stung their eyes. Could nothing be easy?

The closer they drew to the voices, the uneasier Salomé became. The tones themselves were merry but the language was one Salomé did not understand in the least. Salomé tried to shrug it off. Paranoia wasn’t going to help them fight off hypothermia.

Salomé ducked under a low hanging branch, cursing at the sharp rocks that stabbed at their tender feet. The voices stopped, an uncomfortable silence enveloping the forest. Salomé hugged themself tight, finally raising their head. 

Two men were standing together, eyes wide as they took Salomé in. At the sound of Salomé’s teeth clacking together, one of them, a burly man in his early thirties rushed over. He’s got the body of a fighter, all broad-shouldered, his forearms thickly corded. It’s enough to put Salomé on edge, despite his gently questioning tone. He’s peeling his outer layer off, shouting something to his companion from over his shoulder.

All shred of self-assurance Salomé possessed flew right out the window as their eyes zeroed in on the fabric. It was of coarse material, thick stitching lacing up the sides, its oak color desaturated and nearly grey from wear. 

It’s like truly seeing the world for the first time all over again. The trees were different- a few great trees that Salomé _knew_ existed were mere saplings. Some were gone altogether, a void that threatened to uproot Salomé’s entire existence settling beneath their ribs at the realization that wherever they were, they weren’t home. 

They weren’t even in their own time period if the clothing and long hair the men were sporting were anything to go by. It struck them that the language had sounded vaguely Norse, but that couldn’t be. Vikings in Virginia? Did they somehow hit their head? Or was this some hallucinatory aftershock from Bonnie’s spell?

Breathing became harder.

“I don’t understand...” Salomé says.

The man tries again, his words coming out much slower this time as if speaking to a scared child. It does nothing to ease the frustrated tension starting to form in Salomé’s jaw. Their mamá has tried for a solid decade to get them to stop gritting their teeth but to no avail. Salomé sobered at the thought of their mother, wondering just how fast the news of Salomé’s disappearance would reach her. Salomé pitied the poor fool who delivered that particular message.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Salomé repeats, shaking their head back and forth. 

The man only sighs, edging closer. His body heat is enticing but Salomé can’t help but flinch as he drapes the outer shirt over their shoulders. It’s as the younger one steps forward that Salomé can see the family resemblance. Both brothers share eyes made of warm dark chocolate, their hair closer to espresso than chestnut. Where the older brother is built like a powerhouse, the younger one is all sharp lines and a painfully curious gaze. 

His hand reaches out, palm outwards as if feeling for heat. He mutters something too faint for Salomé to hear but the cursing is clear as day as something intangible zaps his fingers. It races around his fingertips in bright green light, ending with what could only be described as a fireworks show. The magic builds in his palm and he has to shoot it upwards, the light flickering out just before it could touch the sky.

Tension bled from Salomé’s shoulders. They’ve known enough witches to know what their magic looks like. The younger brother grins a crooked smile that matches the one on Salomé’s own face. They might be in some strange place, but magic was universal. It’s the push the younger man needs, stepping forward with a confidence Salomé couldn’t help but admire, grabbing hold of Salomé’s wrist. 

“Kol.”

“Huh?” Salomé asks smartly.

“Kol,”He says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “Kol. Elijah.”

Elijah gives a nod at his name and understanding sparks within them. They give the brothers their best smile, eyes crinkling into dark crescent moons above their freckled cheeks.

“Salomé,” Salomé said, pointing a finger at their face.

A sense of relief filled the air, both brothers smiling more freely. Kol tugged on Salomé’s wrist, turning towards a well-worn path. It took a second to push back the uneasiness in following two strange men, but Salomé had little to lose. Kol and Elijah lead the way, Kol’s fingers practically burning on Salomé’s chilled skin. 

Traversing through the trees with Salomé shivering all the while made the journey longer than it should have been. It was only Elijah’s velvet voice and Kol’s own heated grasp that kept Salomé from drifting off. Fondness bloomed warmth in their chest, Salomé’s pitch gaze soft as they watched the brothers converse lowly. It didn’t matter at this point what they were saying, Salomé could see the essence of their words in their easy smiles. 

Salomé was the youngest of their family. Their siblings' bare arms, ringed with the number of decades they’d lived, were the most prominent memory. Salomé fiddled with their own black bands, their shaking fingers tracing the dual ink lines around their forearms. Only the sight of a village, small but full to the brim with life, can pull Salomé free from their thoughts.

Kol ushers them to the closest home, a modest hut made of dark wood. The scent of fresh bread pulled them forward, their stomach making eager noises that made Kol laugh. Elijah guides them in, his voice calling out to Salomé could only assume to be their mother if her magical signature is anything to go by. 

Their mother is tall with wheat blonde hair and shrewd brown eyes just like her sons. She sets the herbs she’d been winding together down on the table gently, her eyes full of cautious concern as they settled on Salomé’s shaking form. Elijah must be explaining, his hand never straying far from Salomé’s shaking shoulders. His brother’s grip never wavers, Kol’s hand gently jerking Salomé forward for examination.

Her fingers ghost the sides of Salomé’s temple, a frown marring her otherwise regal face. She mutters under her breath and an audible pop bursts through the air.

“There we are. Can you understand me now, dear?” She asks, withdrawing her hands to rest them on Salomé’s shoulders. 

Salomé can only grin, wonder filling them. “I can! Magic never ceases to amaze me.”

The language is rough and clumsy on their tongue, but it brings the family to sigh in relief. Elijah and Kol finally step away, the elder brother disappearing through the front door to gather the rest of his family. Kol himself lingers just within reach, drifting after them as Esther settles Salomé in front of the roaring fire. He turns to leave and it’s Salomé’s turn to grab a hold of his wrist.

Kol turns and gives it a look Salomé takes as bewilderment, slowly looking up until he reaches Salomé’s face.

“Thank you, Kol.” They say as sincerely as they can. “I will not forget this.”

Kol levels them with an impish grin. “I would hope not, or I would only worry more.”

* * *

It’s interesting, how genetics work Salomé thinks. How differently an entire family can look, and yet how similar they are somewhere beneath all the sinew and bone that built their bodies. Elijah had returned with the rest of his family, a dizzying total of eight people, excluding Salomé, filling the small home with their own unique signatures. It’s easy to study them each as they talk in a jumble of words, each person dying to get their voice heard.

It was but a sample of what Salomé had grown up with and it was definitely not missed.

Elijah was locked in a deep conversation with Esther and Kol, the topic of magic floating in and out of the conversation. The two youngest children; a girl close in age to Salomé’s own trio named Rebekah, and an adorable little boy with curious eyes took turns interrupting. Henrik was so small amongst his siblings, so fragile looking in such a rough world. It was jarring to see him so at ease amongst all the noise and ruckus.

The ones who said nothing at all were the ones that worried Salomé the most. Mikael, the patriarch of the family in all his old warrior glory, stood still, his shoulders and mouth tense as he watched Salomé’s every move. In his hands was a sword that Salomé had only seen behind glass, the pommel gleaming with care. His eldest child, a man not much older than Elijah and nearly his size, flittered his gaze between the newcomer and his mother. 

Who worried Salomé most was the third eldest son, Niklaus. With intelligent winter blue eyes and a clever mouth, he stood apart from his family as if held away by a string. Even as they all spoke at once, he didn’t bother speaking at all, a slump to his shoulders that Salomé didn’t like. For the son of a Viking, he seemed too gentle. Too kind.

Salomé once again wondered how the hell Vikings got here and opened their mouth to voice their confusion, effectively silencing the family in one fell swoop.

“Did you cross the ocean to come here? When did you settle?” Salomé asked. “I have never heard of Vikings settling in this part of the world.”

“And where are you from, exactly?” Mikael drawled, his voice just as unforgiving as his eyes.

If they told the truth, surely the family would think they were crazy. Salomé had just barely got them to believe they weren’t brain damaged from a dash to the head despite the blood on their lips and the obvious confusion. Esther had provided them with a warm set of simple dresses, the faded sage-colored outer layer finally helping bring color back to their cheeks. 

Where or when they were, Salomé wasn’t exactly sure of. They thought it was Virginia, but what if by some odd chance, Bonnie sent them to another plane of existence? Did they dare tell the truth, share that they are here as a result of a spell? How much of the truth could they share, if it turned out they really have been sent back in time? Every movie with the premise of time travel, every book that Salomé has read- they’ve all said the same thing. 

That to actively change the past was a bad thing, and it could mean disaster for the future. But what else was Salomé to do? They could hold until Bonnie got them back, right? Surely she would be able to fix what she herself has broken?

They settle for a version of the truth, something Mikael must sense from the twisting of his lips.

“From a place very, very far from here. Everything is so different, I do not recognize the land.”

“How far?” He demands.

“Mikael,” Esther begins, only to clamp her mouth shut under his heated glare.

“From a land I doubt you have heard of.” Salomé says slowly, barely blinking. 

It is true. Their original home in Columbia _is_ across the sea, and it _is_ true that Mikael hasn’t heard of it. Mikael doesn’t relax but his nod lets Salomé know their answer is acceptable enough. But his eldest doesn’t let Salomé slip-free, his face so much like Elijah’s yet his features so fair and eyes green as grass even as he eyes them warily like one would a snake. 

“What are you? You can not possibly be a witch, the magic around you is too unrestrained.” Finn asks.

  
“It feels so wild,” Esther murmurs, fingers flexing at her sides. “So free.”

It’s second nature to let their glamour fall away. Their disguise comes away with an audible pop in the air, the feeling of champagne bubbles bursting against everyone’s skin the only warning. Salomé blinks, their black eyes flickering with a brand new depth to them. No longer flat and matte, the color or tar gives way to the shiny gloss of oil beneath the sun's rays. It’s a kaleidoscope of color that is dizzying to look at, the sensation of being uprooted and spun about the room only fading once the colors have settled. 

Black-eyed once more, but a few surprises left behind. In place of gently curved ears were sharp points, the tips of them poking free from Salomé’s short curls. Small canines replaced blunt incisors and the freckles resting on their skin have grown in abundance, a few new golden dots kissing their cheekbones. 

Orchids bloomed in the crown of their head, each flower in its own season of growth. They wink in and out of existence, sprouting about Salomé’s curls with abandon. Esther leans forward, her hands coming together to cup a new bloom gently in her work-hardened hands. Salomé’s glamour comes back as quickly as it left, leaving the family open-mouthed and eyes incredulous. 

“I do not know the name for it in your language,” Salomé shrugs uneasily, fiddling with their hands. “But I am not human, and I am not a witch.”

“A disir,” Finn whispered.

“I have no idea what that means. I am a child of an earth-”

“Jörð! A child of Jörð.” Niklaus interrupts. Niklaus flinches back from his father’s sneer, but the delight on his face hardly fades. Rebekah stands at his side, placing a caring hand on his shoulder that relieves some of the tension from him. 

“Nik must be right, you all saw the flowers.”

“Jörð is the name we gave our earth goddess. She may have a different name to you,” Kol supplies. “To see one of her children here, in our village....it makes sense as to why you appear as you do.”

Salomé hadn’t missed the fact that they were the darkest person they’d seen so far. With skin as rich as the soil beneath their feet and features belonging to the Southern Hemisphere, they stuck out like a sore thumb even dressed appropriately as they were. Though the family had been accepting of their Otherly features thus far, they decided to not push their luck with the village people. The image of being chased by angry villagers with torches and pitchforks came unbidden, and it left its residual imprint in the back of Salomé’s mind despite their best effort of pushing it away.

They weren’t sure if the goddess the family named was their own mother, but without the words to describe otherwise- they might as well go with it. They eyed the family, soaking in every rise and fall of the Mikaelsons. Could they trust this family?

Salomé reckoned they didn’t have a choice.

“That must be her, though I admit that name is foreign to me. There must be a difference in language.”

“The spell I cast was not infallible, it might need tweaking,” Esther says with an easy shrug. “It is getting late. You should stay here, with us. Mikael?”

All eyes turn towards the deathly silent man. A bead of sweat forms on Salomé’s brow, and they are so certain this man will throw them to the cold night.

“You may sleep with Rebekah. Away from the boys, we do not need a pregnant girl so close to winter.”

“I am not a girl,” Salomé flushes under the sudden weight of everyone’s attention. “I am no boy, nor am I a girl. My form is what it is, but I am neither.”

Mikael narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a monthly cycle?”

“Ah. Yes?”

“Then the rule still applies, you will stay with Rebekah to ensure you do not fall pregnant.”

“...Okay. Sure.” Salomé runs a hand through their hair, plucking free a stray leaf. “And thank you, for your hospitality. It does not go unappreciated.”

“Do not thank me yet. Child of a god or not, you will still earn your keep as long as you reside here.” Mikael said. “I trust you know how to milk a cow?”

Salomé lied through their teeth. “Of course!”

* * *

Salomé did in fact not know how to milk a cow. Or work on snares. Or fish the way the brothers did. So they’d done the next best thing- they helped with everything and anything else they could. Fetching herbs, coaxing the earth into growing with abundance, helping Rebekah run errands. Work on the land was never truly done. There was always something that needed tending to, and the days have grown into a week before they knew it.

Rebekah, for all her temperamental habits, has been insanely helpful in getting Salomé acquainted with daily life. They’d never thought simply peeing would be such an arduous task, but to keep it from getting on their skirts they’d need to crouch a certain way. Rebekah has been patient and truly kind, one of the easier siblings to befriend. 

Now they walked together into the village, their arms linked and their heads bent together conspiratorially. It was easy to ignore the stares and low whispers of the crueler villagers when Rebekah was pointing out the boys she’s liked. Salomé burst into laughter at a frat boy looking dude who stumbled over his own feet trying to give Rebekah a sexy smile and the two sprinted around the corner of the nearest home to avoid his mother’s angry sneer.

“Did you see his face? He was so embarrassed, that poor man!” Salomé howled, bending at the waist from the force of their laughter. 

Rebekah clung to them, her shoulder shaking hysterically as she wiped a stray tear away. “Father says he is too oafish to be a good husband. I am beginning to think he is right!”

“Well if Father says so, then it must be true,” Kol said behind them both, grinning as the two yelped in surprise. “Just what kind of mischief are you two up to, and can I join in?”

“We were hoping to see Erik’s newest lamb.”

“A lamb? Why not simply break into the pen?” Kol whispered, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “A little spell here, a little devilish charm there, and we’d be in.”

“Why not simply steal the whole herd while you are at it?” It was Kol’s turn to jump in the air, his dark eyes wide at the sight of Elijah’s amused face. Elijah stood there, a line of fish strung up over his shoulder.

“Who said anything about stealing?” Salomé asked nervously, their laugh coming out strangled.

Elijah rolled his eyes. “Come home, the lot of you. We still have work to do. Here.” He hands Kol the line of fish, smirking at his brother’s wrinkled nose. “Let us go, sometime before the sun goes down.”

Rebekah and Salomé groaned but did as they were told, sighing once the house came into view. Niklaus sits by the fire, whittling what looks to be a small canine. He doesn’t look up when they come in, and it takes Salomé a moment to figure out what’s wrong with this picture. A bruise, freshly blooming on the skin around his storm blue eye, is barely hidden by the hair he leaves free from his face. It does little to cover it, and Salomé immediately rushes to his side.

“Niklaus, what happened?” Salomé asks. They feel as if one of their own brothers had been struck, Nik’s blue eyes replaced by the darkest of blacks. Their hand surges forward without any thought, something acid burning in the pit of their stomach.

Nik slaps their hand away with a wince, the wooden carving falling to the floor. “Nothing happened! Just leave me be.”

He leaves the room in a hurry, leaving Salomé’s hand to hang uselessly in the air. Salomé grimaced. 

“Pay him no mind, he always reacts that way,” Kol says quietly. “He prefers to sulk alone.”

It was hard, leaving Nik to his own devices. All Salomé wanted to do was trail after him, demand that he name who hurt him, and find a way to keep it from happening again. It was too soon for them to claim closeness with Niklaus, but Salomé never did like feeling people hurt. It was exactly why they had begun studying medicine. 

To leave someone to their own agonies went against everything Salomé believed in, but as Kol spun a new story, grabbing hold of Salomé’s wrist and tugging them close to the fire, Salomé let it slip from their mind.

Surely it was best that they kept their nose out of Nik’s business.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> AN: A new story!! And this time, for Kol! It’s going to be a rather short one, hopefully under 20 chapters. I just wanted to write something very self-indulgent and with a nonbinary character at the forefront. Let me know if there are parts that are confusing, pronouns can be tricky at times. 
> 
> Till next time~


End file.
